


And Be Amazed

by notmyyacht



Category: Chitty Chitty Bang Bang - All Media Types, Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: Angst, Birthday Party, Caractacus is an awkward duck in the 21st century, Comfort, Crossover Pairings, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Leather Kink, M/M, Pet Names, Pining, Possessive Nevada, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:10:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7035202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmyyacht/pseuds/notmyyacht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One is a drug kingpin and the other is a kind-hearted inventor from another time. Somehow they make it work.</p><p>This is a collection of Nevada/Caractacus ficlets and drabbles ranging from disgustingly cute to darker stuff. This is written with the Broadway Raúl Esparza Caractacus in mind. Tags will be added to as I go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Odd Couple

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning, all of these are unbeta'd and are basically spur-of-the-moment and generally unrelated ficlets, unless specified. Enjoy!

One of Nevada’s men lets Caractacus into the apartment. He awkwardly walked by him, quickly shaking off the look Nevada’s men gave him. The weird goody two-shoes inventor their boss was dating. They only shoot dirty looks at him when Nevada isn’t present.

Caractacus finds Nevada alone in one of the rooms and on the phone, his back to the door and the curtains to the large, open window in front of him drawn. A wave of joy washes over Caractacus. Nevada is saying something in Spanish into the phone. Caractacus doesn’t understand, but whatever Nevada is discussing, it looks to be putting him in a good mood. 

Caractacus quietly walks up to Nevada just as he’s hanging up. He pockets the phone and rests his hands on his hips. With a grin Caractacus wraps his arms around Nevada’s middle and squeezes him affectionately.

Nevada starts at first, but he quickly recognizes the green plaid sleeves around him.

“Must you?” he grumbles.

Caractacus rests his chin on Nevada’s shoulder and pecks him on the cheek.

“Yep!”


	2. In Leather

Caractacus’s face is a deep red as he stares at himself in the mirror.

“This is positively indecent,” he mutters to himself, shifting uncomfortably in the leather pants. How is this something Nevada wants him in? But he wants to please his lover and look attractive for him. He takes a deep breath and puts on the black tank top.

Nevada walks into the apartment in an angry huff, slamming the door behind him. He kicks the sofa and storms into the bedroom, where he stops dead in his tracks.

“Glad to see you’re back,” says Caractacus. Nevada stands there and drinks him in.

Caractacus is seated on the edge of the bed, legs spread as far as his tight leather pants will allow without hurting him. His bare arms grip the edge of the bed.

“You’re a bit later than you said you’d be, but that’s alright,” Caractacus says then gestures over at the bedside table. “My experiment to create the ultimate lubrication for intercourse that is both effective and easy to clean up was a complete success. Well, except I need one more final test. I thought we could go through with it tonight, together.”

A dark smile spreads across Nevada’s face and he immediately removes his leather jacket and tosses it to the floor. He unbuttons his black shirt as he approaches the bed.

“For science, of course, Caractacus?” he says, unbuckling his belt.

“Of course!” Caractacus smiles, happy that Nevada is pleased. “Would you like me to undress?”

“No, not yet. Fuck, how the hell did you get into those pants?” Nevada runs a hand up Caractacus’ thigh.

“It took a ridiculously long time. Hopefully getting them off will not be as difficult.” Caractacus quirks an eyebrow.

“I really fucking need this,” says Nevada, running his index finger over Caractacus’ shoulder.

“Then I suppose my invention was completed just in time.”

Nevada smirks as he gently pushes Caractacus onto his back and kisses his mouth.


	3. Seeing Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one ended up being a bit longer than anticipated. Oh well~

Caractacus was not particularly fond of nightclubs. Far too many people and far too loud. He didn't understand why Nevada spent so much time in them.

"It's more for business than pleasure," Nevada had told him when a grumpy Caractacus broke down and asked him.

At the very least, Caractacus was glad he was never left alone in one. If Nevada wasn't constantly by his side, then he would have one of his men keep him company. Caractacus wasn't sure if it was because Nevada knew he didn't like being left alone in clubs, or if he was just being protective. Either way, Caractacus was glad for it.

That is, until tonight. Nevada has a meeting in the backroom and Caractacus is once again to be left in the corner, off to the side, in the dark, pounding club. Caractacus was stuck with one of Nevada's men who wasn't particularly fond of him -Marco. Usually, Gabby was left with Caractacus and generally didn't seem to mind. Gabby didn't make much conversation, but he never glared at Caractacus or deliberately made him feel uncomfortable.

But Marco. More than once had Marco "accidentally" step on Caractacus' foot or shove his shoulder in passing. Marco would call him things behind his back, knowing Caractacus wasn't the type who would tell on him. Not that Caractacus didn't consider it, but Nevada has a temper, a violent temper. The last person who muttered something vile about Caractacus with Nevada in earshot lost a few teeth. Caractacus didn't want to be responsible for another incident.

Marco was a good bodyguard though. He stood beside the decrepit excuse of a couch that Caractacus sat on, his eyes scanning the crowd.

Caractacus silently wished Nevada would hurry up. Despite how keenly Marco seemed to be keeping an eye out for... whoever, he didn't feel safe. Not with Marco.

Marco, who Caractacus had assumed was keeping an eye out for anybody who wanted to mess with him, was actually ogling the women in the club. His eyes raked over long legs, glittery hair styles, and barely contained breasts in tube tops. He loved summer and he loved when Nevada went into clubs in the summer. He was not fond of babysitting Nevada's boy toy, but for this view, he settled that it was worth it.

He glanced down at Caractacus, who was sitting there, staring blankly into space. Usually the little shit was scrawling down ideas on a little notepad -his "inventions"- but perhaps the music was too loud for him to concentrate. _Good_ , Marco thought, his mouth twisting into a scowl. He didn't get it. Why the hell was Nevada so interested in this goddamn saint? He could have anyone and he decides to give it up to this nobody freak?

Caractacus must have been able to sense him staring. Big, green eyes met Marco's anger-filled brown ones. Marco huffed and quickly looked back out into the crowd.

Caractacus followed his gaze and blushed. Marco was eying a girl that couldn't be over 20, with long dark hair and 12-inch stilettos. Caractacus quickly looked away and idly stared down at his hands. The movement didn't go unnoticed.

"When was the last time you've been with a girl, chico?" Marco smirked, still ogling the teenager.

"That is none of your business," Caractacus quickly stammered.

"I bet Nevada would like it if he saw you dancing with a hot piece like that. That's what you're there for, right? To get him all fired up? I bet he'll love it and take you both home."

Caractacus spared another glance at the girl. She stood off to the side, chatting with friends and laughing. She sipped her Shirley Temple and brushed a stray hair out of her face. She's just a child. She shouldn't even be here. Caractacus eyed her friends, who all looked a couple years older than her -not too old that it would be odd for them to be friends, but old enough to actually be drinking. They are the protective older friends while she remains the baby of the group. She's safe with them.

Caractacus felt sick at Marco's suggestion.

"Leave her be," he said.

"Oh right right, you only have eyes for Trujillo now. I get it. Rather be his whore than have fun on your own, right?" Marco bent down so he could speak right into Caractacus' ear. "If he told you to suck me off, would you do it? Would you fuck someone else if he just wanted to watch?"

Feeling daring, Marco placed his hand on Caractacus' upper thigh and squeezed hard.

"Or what if I let you have ten minutes with that girl and kept my mouth shut? I'll do it, for a price of course. Ten minutes with that girl and I get a go to fuck that whore mouth of yours? I won't say shit to Nevada." Marco leaned in closer, his cheap cologne adding to the bile rising in Caractacus' throat. Marco's hand jumped from Caractacus' thigh to his throat, holding him there. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the hand that spun him around.

Marco didn't even register the mistake he had made until Nevada's fist made contact with his jaw. Marco's head hit the club floor with a loud _smack_.

Still frozen to the spot, Caractacus watched Nevada climb on top of Marco.

"Fuckin' son of a bitch!" Nevada snarled, bringing his fists down again. Marco attempted to put his hands between them, but Nevada was seeing red and spewing cusses as he went off on him.

"B-boss-!"

_Crack._

Marco stopped moving, stopped fighting. Everything hurt too much to cradle his now broken nose.

Nevada grabbed the front of Marco's shirt and got into his bloody face.

Caractacus couldn't hear what Nevada was saying, but he knew he wasn't going to forget how Marco's face looked for a long time. He looked up at the crowd starting to form around them, watching the spectacle. Even the young girl and her friends were staring. Enough was enough.

Caractacus flew to Nevada's side and started tugging at his shoulders.

"Nevada stop! Please!"

Nevada's jaw clenched as he continued to glare down at what was left of a barely breathing Marco.

"Nobody fucking touches you," Nevada growls. Caractacus brought a hand up and cupped the opposite side of his face, encouraging Nevada to turn his head and look at him. Nevada did and something in his eyes softened.

"Okay," said Caractacus, nodding, "okay."

Gabby, who had been standing near the edge of the crowd, finally came in close and whispered something about leaving. Nevada nodded and released Marco's body. He got to his feet, Caractacus still holding onto him.

"Gabby, take care of that piece of shit," said Nevada before putting an arm around Caractacus. "C'mon, cariño, let's go home. I think we've both had enough excitement for one night."


	4. Space

Nevada was still unhappy about this. All the way up to the top floor, room 285, the last door at the end of the hallway. At least the building he picked had an elevator.

It was Nevada's building, technically. He owned it as he owned half of Washington Heights. Nevada even had a apartment of his own in this building, though he only used it to entertain his sister when she came to visit from Long Island.

This building was one of the nicer ones, with decent apartments, running water, heating and air conditioning. There was even multiple working washers and dryers on the first floor. It was near to convenient stores, a school, and a movie theater. It was perfect for Caractacus to live in.

Nevada was still unhappy Caractacus wanted a place of his own, though.

"What's wrong with my apartment?" he had pouted.

"Nothing. I just... I would like my own space, is all. Is that so wrong?"

As if Nevada would deny Caractacus anything. Not with those puppy eyes and charming English smile.

Nevada insisted on choosing the place for him. Deferring to Nevada's better judgment of the neighborhood, Caractacus let him. Nevada picked the building right next to the building Nevada, himself, lived. Not far, but some space, as requested.

Caractacus had fallen in love with the place -as far as city apartments went. Caractacus is much more of a country person, but Nevada patted himself on the back for the apartment choice.

Room 285 is a penthouse, of course. Only the best for Nevada's boy. The place is wide and open, with only doors between the bedroom and the bathroom with the rest of the apartment. The windows are large and inviting to sunlight. It's probably one of the best apartments in the whole city, Nevada had thought. There's even a balcony! Only the best.

It still doesn't change the fact that now Caractacus isn't sleeping in Nevada's bed as often. It doesn't change the fact that more than a couple times in the past week Nevada has woken up reaching for empty space next to him. It doesn't change the fact that when Nevada comes home late after a long day, there isn't a warm body to snuggle up to.

He could simply just go to Caractacus' place. Sleep there... but that would defeat the purpose of "having space."

Nevada doesn't want there to be space.

In the time he and Caractacus have been together, he had avoided the question of 'What are we?' Nevada wouldn't lie to himself and say he wasn't devoted to Caractacus. He'd barely looked at anyone else since they became... whatever they are. Boyfriends? Lovers? Lovers was a good word, he supposed. They were lovers. Loyal lovers.

Nevada liked that. But now they're moving backward. Caractacus moved out and now has his own place. Space. Maybe Caractacus didn't want to be a loyal lover anymore? Not that he would ever cheat on him. No, Caractacus wasn't the type. But maybe this was some sort of sign. Nevada was never good at signs, or relationships.

Caractacus wanted space and Nevada wanted to give it to him. Nevada would give Caractacus anything he wanted (and isn't that thought terrifying if Caractacus were anyone but himself?). He would kill for Caractacus; he nearly already had more than once.

But the truth of the matter was, he _missed_ him. He missed the late night snuggles, the constant bumping into each other in the kitchen, that dopey smile that would greet him every morning. This needed to be fixed and it needed to be fixed _now_.

Nevada knocked on the door of room 285 and waited.

And waited.

He knocked again, louder.

Ah, _there_ was the sound of something moving inside, of feet shuffling to the door. He could hear the door unlock and then it swung open. Any built-up couples fight Nevada was prepared for vanished.

That dopey grin. It was saying something. Nevada couldn't hear it. No, he was far too distracted by everything but the words forming on those sweet lips.

Caractacus was dressed down in the worn sweats and long-sleeved shirt Nevada lent him (and had never returned). His sleeves were covered by the empty flour sacks he had once explained to Nevada were for "Prevention of any unwanted spills, sparks, or splatters."

Caractacus' face twisted into one of confusion. Such a cute face that needed a shave. An unshaven Caractacus was such an odd sight. Even in early mornings, Nevada would rarely see that much stubble on his cheek.

"Are you alright?" managed to slip by Nevada's select hearing. That concern in Caractacus' voice probably the culprit.

Nevada didn't think twice, but immediately grabbed Caractacus by the front of his shirt and slammed their lips together. Caractacus squeaked in surprise, but quickly melted and wrapped his arms around Nevada's neck. Nevada bit and sucked on Caractacus' lips like a starved man. He finally broke off, if only to catch his breath. His eyes were closed as he pressed his forehead to Caractacus' and listened to both of their staggered breathing.

His fists no longer bunched in the front of Caractacus' shirt, but had moved to his waist and held Caractacus' hips firmly against Nevada's own.

"You alright?" Caractacus said again. His fingers played at the ends of Nevada's hair, a gentle touch smoothing them against the nape of his neck.

Nevada opened his eyes. _I missed you_ , he wanted to say. _Move back in with me. Stop being so far away. I'm better with  you near._ He doesn't say these things, nor does he allow himself to linger on that last one.

"What are you working on?" he said instead, his hand ghosting over one of the flour sacks.

Caractacus' face lit up and isn't that the most beautiful thing in the entire world? Nevada kept that thought to himself too.

"Come see!"

Hand-in-hand, Caractacus lead Nevada into the apartment.

Nevada's eyebrows rose. If he didn't know any better, he'd say it looked like Caractacus was cooking meth right in the living room. Instead of a homey apartment with sofas and nice places to sit and relax, the place was cluttered with machinery and contraptions straight out of a James Bond villain's lair.

"Isn't it great, Nevada? I turned the space you gave me into a large workshop! The only place I'm not keeping any of my new inventions is the bedroom. My old workshop only had a small cot in the corner." Caractacus beamed, his chest puffed in pride. "Want to see what I've been working on?"

Nevada looked at him, unsure what to say. When Caractacus said he needed space... he was being fucking _literal_. More importantly, it had nothing to do with their relationship. Nevada knew Caractacus hated being around him all the time, especially when he was doing business. Caractacus just wanted a place so he could _work_ and have a life of his own. This was about him, not them.

Nevada never felt so guilty about being selfish in all his life until in that realization crashed down upon him.

Caractacus was looking concerned at him again. Nevada glanced down at their linked hands. They were fine. Everything was fine.

His eyes met Caractacus'.

"Show me."

Caractacus grinned and dragged him over to a pot of something blue and boiling on the stovetop.

Nevada only half-listened to the mile-a-minute explanation Caractacus was giving about some sort of environment-friendly air freshener that he was working on. Their hands only let go for a moment so Caractacus could waft the steam rising from the pot in Nevada's general direction.

The concoction smelled of fresh air after a heavy rainfall in the summer. It was nothing short of...

"Refreshing," Nevada commented.

"Yes, isn't it? Unfortunately, once it cools, it smells like old socks. But I think I'm close with that one. _This one_ , on the other hand...!" Caractacus snatched up Nevada's hand again and nearly ran around the dining table to the front of the unused fireplace.

Scrapped together from various things including an old, worn tie and a blender Nevada is sure Caractacus probably found in the trash, was a contraption about the size of a German shepherd. Caractacus squatted next to it and turned a knob.

"Observe and be amazed!" he said, raising his hands in the air for dramatic emphasis. The contraption emitted an arrhythmic _tink tink tink tink tink_. What looked like an old view master reel slowly turned in the center.

Nevada opened his mouth to ask what the hell it was doing, but his unasked question was quickly answered. Out of a small slot at the bottom spat a slip of paper. With a grin, Caractacus reached under it and tore it off. He turned the machine off then offered the slip of paper to Nevada.

Nevada took it and looked down at it.

"'Italian Restaurant'," he read aloud. His eyebrows drew together and he once again opened his mouth to ask.

"It's for indecisive people," explained Caractacus. "At random, it picks what you should have for dinner if you are having trouble figuring out what you want to eat. There are various choices: restaurants, pizza, breakfast foods, some half a dozen recipe ideas. This is only a prototype, but hopefully it will have a couple hundred choices in its complete form. People will even be able to custom design their own so it meets personal tastes and diet choices. I call it The Meal Ticket."

Nevada glanced between the machine and Caractacus, then down at the slip of paper. He looked back up at Caractacus again.

"This is fucking genius," he said.

Caractacus' grin grew wider than Nevada had ever seen on him and his chest pleasantly tightened. He smiled back and looked back down at the slip.

"Suppose this means I now have to take you to an Italian restaurant tonight."

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"Except I am."

Caractacus only gave a humble smile and didn't argue it further. There was no way to argue against Nevada when it came to food. And Caractacus had tried nearly every time Nevada took him somewhere fancy.

Nevada helped Caractacus to his feet.

"I like what you did with the place," said Nevada, glancing around.

"Thank you. I'm sorry I haven't been spending the night as often as I used to." Nevada's attention snapped to Caractacus who flashed him a small, knowing smile. "That's why you came today, isn't it? You missed me and dash it... I missed you too. I'm glad you came, Nevada."

Nevada's chest tightened again and he gave a quick affirming nod. Nevada Ramirez didn't blush, he didn't feel embarrassed that he'd been caught... except he did and he hoped Caractacus wouldn't comment on the new color in his cheeks. Caractacus spared him.

"It's just been a while since I have had time to work on my ideas. I would very much like to dine with you tonight. Perhaps afterward, you and I can go home and make up for the lost time," he said with a shy smile.

Nevada smirked.

"The restaurant suggestion wasn't an accident, was it?" Nevada stepped closer and placed his hands on Caractacus' hips.

"No, it _was_ an accident."

"Then consider me fucking amazed." Nevada leaned his face in and closed the gap between them.


	5. Cuddle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of two 3-sentence micro fics I wrote on tumblr.

Caractacus would never tell anyone, but Nevada is one of the most cuddly people he has ever had the opportunity to cuddle with. As soon as he’s out, Nevada will latch onto the nearest thing (usually Caractacus) and pull him close, nuzzle his neck, intertwine their feet. It’s adorable… up until Caractacus wakes up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and Nevada won’t let go.


	6. Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second of the two 3-sentence fics.

Nevada stared bug-eyed at the color and the frills and the streamers and the balloons and the fucking _cake_ and came to the conclusion that this was a nightmare; but no, Caractacus was really throwing a birthday party for him… for only the two of them, but a party nonetheless. Nevada’s shoulders fell with a heavy sigh of defeat. After all, Caractacus looked so damn _happy_ about it all with his big grin and how enthusiastic his “Surprise!” was. Maybe it won’t be so bad… maybe Caractacus will even let Nevada eat cake off him later too.


	7. Peaches

Neither were really sure when it started. Caractacus insisted that he'd been using it for about a month, while Nevada was certain he only just heard it. Just heard it? Or, only just realized that Caractacus had been affectionately calling him "Peaches" for a month?

"Do you want me to stop?" asked Caractacus.

Nevada rolled his eyes and shrugged. "I don't care."

Caractacus smiled and scooted back under his latest invention.

The more he used it, the more casual it sounded on Caractacus' tongue.

"Mind handing me that wrench, Peaches?"

"Whatever you want, Peaches."

"I'll be working on this lamp receptacle all night, Peaches. No need to wait up for me."

If Nevada's men were laughing about the pet name, they weren't doing it in front of him... for the most part. Nevada didn't particularly worry about his reputation when it came to having Caractacus in his life. At the beginning, his allies told him to 'get rid of the ridiculous buffoon' before people could start saying that he was making Nevada soft. Nevada did not go soft. He had a soft spot for Caractacus, but it only made him more dangerous. If anyone said a word against Caractacus, they would find themselves in the hospital.

 _Peaches_ though. This was a new level Nevada wasn't ready for. Sure, they had basic pet names for each other before... But this wasn't a "darling" or "babe." It was "peaches." Just one step down from "love." There was something strangely personal about it. Caractacus must have put _thought_ into deciding to call him that. This was stepping into Serious Relationship territory. It was too much.

"Stop calling me that."

Nevada regretted it once he said it and Nevada isn't one who regrets easily. Caractacus' expression turned solemn and he nodded. Nevada watched him fix his tie in the mirror.

They were going out to dinner, a nice French restaurant Nevada had never taken anyone to before.

The drive was quiet at first. They both sat in the back. The silence was too much. Nevada shifted in his seat and mumbled, "So what're you working on now?"

Caractacus' face lit up. It always did when Nevada voluntarily asked about his inventions. He opened his mouth and started to ramble. Nevada only half-listened, waiting for Caractacus to use that word. He didn't.

Nor did he use it during their conversation over dinner.

Dinner was great. Caractacus was a little overwhelmed at how fancy the place was, but all-in-all, it was a successful date. Nevada wasn't exactly the type who executed dates well, but by the time they were back in the escalade, making out, it was definitely good.

Still, Caractacus wouldn't call him by it.

Nevada pulled back and frowned.

"Is something wrong?" Caractacus asked, his brow knit.

God, he looked so cute and innocent. Of course he would come up with the nickname he did. It was so _him_ and Nevada really liked him more than he was ready to admit. Nevada sat back and brushed his fingers against his own lips.

"You can say it," he said, "go on."

"Say what?" asked Caractacus.

Nevada frowned and folded his arms.

"Go on," he repeated. "Call me it."

Caractacus' eyebrows raised, a grin spread across his face. _Oh._

"And if I said I don't want to anymore," he said, quirking an eyebrow.

Nevada puckered his lips in thought.

"I would say you're a shitty liar, Potts. Now are you going to call me your dumb fruit pet name or what?" Nevada held his chin up, waiting.

Caractacus giggled and scooted closer. He wrapped one arm around Nevada's shoulders and rested the other on his belly. Caractacus bumped his nose against Nevada's and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Peaches," whispered Caractacus, his breath soft on Nevada's mouth. Cute.

Nevada smiled back. Okay, he can do this.


	8. Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what I was trying to do here. Character death mention!!

Nevada stood in the doorway,  not moving.

This is too much. He could take the kids, he could take the happy-go-lucky attitude that came with being with Caractacus... funny how now what he couldn't take was sorrow.

When Nevada was only a child and his father died due to a failed liver, the guidance counselor at his school who cared too much for their own good called him out of class. A 16-year-old Nevada was supposed to take a few days off school, mourn, attend the funeral, all that depressing shit.

Nevada remembered the guidance counselor put a hand on his shoulder and told him "These things take time."

"This won't be something you'll quickly get over."

"It might take years for you to come to terms with this."

"The grief may never go away, but you learn to live with it."

"It will get better."

Little did Nevada's guidance counselor know  was that Nevada was glad his no-good, pathetic waste of space father was dead. That, if anything, this was a weight lifted from his family's shoulders. A relief.

Years later, his nephew was killed in an accident. It was the closest he ever came to grief, though it was more his sister's grief than his own. That "accident" had nearly ruined him and his business. He only allowed himself to care about that.

This though, this was different. Once again, it wasn't his grief. It wasn't someone he even knew. But Nevada felt something stir in his chest all the same.

"It's her anniversary," Caractacus told him.

This was too much. Nevada didn't know how to handle this. Caractacus curled up in bed, crying, was never a sight he ever wanted to see. Caractacus was good. Caractacus was happy. Then, like a snap of the fingers, he's miserable.

How the hell does a person mourn for their lover's dead spouse? _Should_ Nevada be mourning with him?

_"The grief may never go away, but you learn to live with it."_

Caractacus learned to live with it. Did he break down every year on the anniversary of her death? Did he let the walls fall just for a day? Nevada stomach churned. Was it _him?_ Was it because Caractacus had found someone new, was there guilt there?

Nevada swallowed thickly, then entered the bedroom. He climbed onto the bed and lay on his side, facing Caractacus' back. He didn't touch him, but lay there quietly, listening to Caractacus' breathing.

"Do you wish she was still alive?" Nevada asked.

"Of course." Caractacus' voice was soft and broken. Nevada hated the sound and for a moment, he hated her for dying. _How could she do this to him?_

Nevada reached over and ghosted a hand over Caractacus' arm, not quite making contact.

"I miss her all the time, even when I'm not thinking of her. Today is just... a reminder." Caractacus curled in on himself a little more.

A question lingered on Nevada's tongue. One he wanted to ask, but could never bring himself to. He distracted himself with another question, "She probably wouldn't like me."

"She would downright despise you." Ouch.

"Fair enough."

That earned Nevada a soft, but incredibly brief chuckle. _More like an amused snort_ , Nevada thought. It was a start.

Nevada reached again, this time he placed his hand flat on Caractacus' back. Caractacus exhaled and immediately turned to face Nevada.

Caractacus scooted closer until he his body was pressed close to Nevada's, his arms around Nevada, their legs tangled together.

A smile played on Caractacus' lips as he affectionately bumped his nose against Nevada's.

"Thank you," said Caractacus and closed his eyes. Nevada wanted to ask 'For what?' but he wasn't ready for the answer, not yet.

Nevada Ramirez didn't grieve, or care about others really. Hell, most of the time he didn't particularly care if an enemy dragged him somewhere remote and put a bullet in him; as long as it was one of his more worthy enemies. We all gotta die sometime, right? But Nevada did not want Caractacus to ever grieve for him. Caractacus Potts has had enough grief in his life.

Nevada pulled him close. He was going to take care of Caractacus. He'd make sure Caractacus never had to cry again and if he did, Nevada would be there for him.


	9. Morning After

Nevada will never get used to it. It had always been such a foreign concept to him, that all it ever was in the past was a cliché that only existed in one-night-stand mythos.

The morning after.

Only this isn’t the first morning after, but one of many morning afters. This was even more of something Nevada had never been familiar with. The closest thing to domesticity he’d ever gotten was here and now.

The waking up and finding the one you had been sleeping next to already up and about, making breakfast, humming a tune. God, it was so cliché… except of course for the eccentricities one Caractacus Potts brought with him.

Caractacus never used the stove, especially not for breakfast. No, he isn’t bent over a hot stove, waiting for eggs to cook. Instead he slams a hammer against what _is_ cooking their breakfast.

Nevada stands unnoticed off to the side, not making a noise.

Caractacus frowns in frustration and gives the machine a solid kick. He mumbles under his breath, cursing the damn thing. It seems to do the trick and the breakfast machine starts shaking and humming as it’s supposed to. Caractacus grins. Nevada feels his knees weaken.

 _This_ is normal for them, he realizes. Caractacus humming, Caractacus working on his inventions, Caractacus making breakfast, Caractacus being up early.

Caractacus finally turns and sees Nevada standing there. His face lights up.

Caractacus being Caractacus.

Nevada doesn’t deserve Caractacus. It’s a strange thought. Nevada never considered who or what he did or didn’t deserve. If he could obtain something, then it was as good as his. It had fuck all to do with _deserving_.

Caractacus does that though, he makes Nevada question everything in all the good ways, but also in all the ways that challenge Nevada’s lifestyle completely. It wasn’t fair that Caractacus is such a good person and he is so wasted on Nevada.

This isn’t the person Nevada deserves, but he’s the one Nevada has.

Nevada never considered what he deserves or the possibility of what he has being what it is. What he has is an eccentric inventor making breakfast with his ridiculous machine.

This is _too_ good. Nevada would vomit if he was looking at this from the outside. Disgusting…

“I’m sorry Nevada, what was that?” Caractacus asks, grin still on his face.

Nevada barely registered he had said it out loud. He’d been so deep in his thoughts and his eyes had been glued to how the bright early morning sunlight was illuminating Caractacus’ soft brown hair.

He really did. Might as well say it twice.

“I said that I love you.”


	10. Loving Thoughts

“Go on children.”

Jeremy and Jemima both took a step forward and placed their flowers next to the tombstone.

Caractacus remembers how difficult it was to talk to them about it at first. He made sure not to shut them out, to listen when they wanted to talk about it or answer if they asked him how he felt. He had to be strong for them, but he never closed himself off from them.

He doesn’t look to the several feet behind them where Nevada stands. He keeps his distance, letting his new... _family_ grieve for the mother and wife lost long ago.

“It is not something you get over with ease,” Caractacus had told him earlier when they were waiting for the children to pick which flowers they wanted to bring. “You learn to let go of some of the sadness, but letting go hurts a lot. It’ll always be difficult for myself and the children to think of her.” Caractacus had turned to Nevada then with a hint of a smile and said, “We’re happy though.”

Nevada silently watches Caractacus place a small bouquet of pansies on Mimsie’s grave.


	11. Meet the Parent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for clowchan :D

Nevada had never done the whole “meet the parents” thing, so this was new. He didn’t know what to expect in general… and he didn’t know what to expect when he met Caractacus’ father.

What he got made him realize he shouldn’t have expected any less.

Potts Sr. saluted him. Fucking _saluted_ him. They shook hands. Nevada smiled out of sheer adoration. _He’s like an old Caractacus_ , he kept thinking.

“So you’re the strapping young lad my son has swept off his feet, hm? Well, both Caractacus and my grandchildren have all spoken very highly of you…”

Nevada spared a glance over at Caractacus. _‘Really?’_

Caractacus just smiled. _‘Maybe.’_

When introductions and lunch was over, Potts Sr. rose from the dining table.

“It’s been good to finally meet you, Mr. Ramjam-”

“Ramirez, dad,” Caractacus corrected.

“Right, Mr. Ramirez! It has been a pleasure. I’m off to India now!” Potts Sr. saluted the two. Caractacus and Nevada saluted back without hesitation.

Once Potts Sr. was gone, Nevada turned to Caractacus and paused.

“Did he just say he’s going to _India?_ ”


End file.
